


Sticky Situation

by glymr



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Food Kink, Genderswap, M/M, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Rule 63, Sequel, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15651585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr
Summary: “I don't think-” I began.She put a finger to my lips.  “Don't think,” she said.Then she picked up the container of maple syrup.





	Sticky Situation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tiresias's Dilemma](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094693) by [forestgreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestgreen/pseuds/forestgreen). 



> This is a sequel to forestgreen's fabulous [Tiresias's Dilemma](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094693), written with permission. I recommend reading that story first, both because it's one of my favorite Dresden File stories ever, and because this sequel will make more sense. 
> 
> However, if you don't want to read it, all you need to know to understand this story is: Jared Kincaid is turned into a woman, and he and John Marcone end up convincing/manipulating Harry into a threesome. This story picks up where the previous one left off. 
> 
> ALSO! This is a fill of a Dresden Files Kinkmeme prompt about characters licking something sticky/sweet off each others' skins. I cannot find said prompt, but will hopefully come across it eventually as I work my way through bookmarking everything to the [Dresden Files Kinkmeme Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DresdenKink), at which point I will properly link and categorize it. If you find it before I do, PLEASE comment and link me? Thank you!

I didn't want to open my eyes. 

My body was warm. Comfortable. Sore.

There were sounds nearby, quiet ones. I drifted, letting them wash over me.

The sound of silverware clinking on china. “You owe me.”

“I rather think I do. Did you have something specific in mind?”

The sound of someone slurping...it must be coffee, I could smell coffee. “Ivy wants to go to a concert. A Taylor Swift concert.”

“Ah. I'm sure I can obtain tickets for you-”

“That's a start.”

“What else were you thinking?”

“I want you to take her. You and Dresden. I don't wanna go, and neither of you alone is enough to protect her. Together you cover mundane and supernatural threats pretty well.”

Something tugged at the warm haze surrounding my brain, but I ignored it.

“...I'm not entirely sure this was worth _that_.” 

A snort. “Maybe I'm not finished yet.”

“No? I see. More coffee?”

“Please.”

“What will you offer Dresden to take Ivy to a stadium full a screaming eleven to fifteen year-old girls and listen to derivative, over-produced pop music played at high volume?”

“I won't have to offer him anything. It's for _Ivy_.” 

“Ah. Of course.” More china clinking.

I peeled my eyes open and yawned.

There was a round table set up on the opposite end of the room from the bed. Kincaid and Marcone were sitting across from each other, Kincaid with a white china cup in one hand. Marcone taking a bite of something.

Sitting up, I said, “Is that French toast?”

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. We saved you a couple of pieces,” said Kincaid, sounding amused. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to get the sand out of them, then realized I was naked under the sheet.

Kincaid was wearing a white terrycloth robe, his hair damp. Marcone looked equally at ease in a dark green robe – not terrycloth, but some silky material. I tugged the sheet up self-consciously and started glancing around the bed for my clothes.

“They're being cleaned,” said Marcone. I opened my mouth to object, but he went on, “Don't worry, I'm sure I can loan you something until they're finished. For now, there's another robe in the bathroom.”

I scowled at him, then glanced over at the bathroom door.

It was on the other side of the room.

I had a choice: walk across the room completely naked, or grab the sheet and wrap it around myself until I got to the bathroom.

I had nothing to be embarrassed about. Surely I could walk across a room in front of two grown men (one of whom was currently in the shape of a woman) that I had slept with last night.

Had sex with last night.

A lot of sex.

I had dried come on my skin.

I grabbed the sheet and headed for the bathroom, ignoring Kincaid's snort and Marcone's quiet breath of laughter.

* * *

I wanted to linger in the shower, but the knowledge that the two of them were outside the door, talking and eating, made it impossible to relax, even into the gloriously hot spray. So I scrubbed down, dried off with one of the ridiculously soft towels, and found the robe hanging next to the door. It was actually long enough for me, which was nice, but kind of weird. It must be really long on Marcone. Or maybe this was just...an extra robe that he kept around for guests. I shrugged.

There was a wrapped toothbrush and toothpaste on the counter, so I made quick use of those, too (ignoring the other two toothbrushes that weren't wrapped).

Then I took a breath and swung the door open. They were still at the table. Kincaid was leaning forward, saying something to Marcone, who had his head bent to catch her – _his_ , dammit – words. They looked...domestic. Like a handsome businessman and his gorgeous high-powered lawyer wife having a leisurely breakfast. Suddenly I felt awkward; a third wheel. What would I be in that scenario? The pool boy? 

Then Marcone looked up at me and smiled, his expression momentarily unguarded. Kincaid did as well, but there was calculation in her eyes.

For a moment I hesitated, on the verge of telling them I would get out of their hair and leave them to their breakfast. Then I remembered that I didn't have any clothes other than the robe, and the look in Marcone's eyes shaded to ironic, then challenging. I firmed my jaw and strode forward to take the third seat at the table.

There were a couple of slices of French toast left, and lots of bacon. I filled my plate and dumped syrup over everything, then took a big bite.

It was good. No longer warm, but flavorful and rich. The French toast was fluffy like the best French toast should be, and the sweetness of the syrup mingled with the saltiness of the bacon was delicious.

I ate quickly, since they were already finished, keeping my eyes on my plate and the steadily-disappearing food. When I was done, I was...not quite full, but not hungry anymore. I trailed my finger through the leftover syrup on my plate and sucked it absently.

“You have-” Kincaid reached across and swiped at my cheek, the corner of my lip, bringing her finger to my mouth and slipping it inside. I sucked it without thinking, then looked up and froze at the sudden heat in her eyes.

I pulled back. She let her wet finger trail down my chin. “I – I have to get home,” I said. “My cat-”

“I took the liberty of asking your apprentice to feed Mister,” said Marcone, his mouth hidden behind his coffee cup. I glared at him. As glad as I was that my cat hadn't been left to fend for himself all night, I didn't want Marcone interacting with Molly. Or interfering in my life.

I was dammed if I would thank him for it. I took a sip of coffee and glanced at the room, then nearly choked.

When I'd gone into the shower, the bed had been absolutely destroyed from our activities of the previous afternoon. Well, okay, the mattress and frame had been fine, as far as I could tell, but the sheets, blankets and pillows had been in complete disarray.

Now the bed was neatly made as though it had never been used.

“Jesus, did you have your people come in and make the bed while I was in the shower and the two of you were sitting here in your robes?” I blurted out.

Marcone blinked at me, then his lips turned up at the corners. “Yes,” he said, perfectly calm. “Does that bother you?”

“I-” Why did it bother me? I wasn't sure, I just knew that the idea of letting other people into this bubble of – of whatever this was made me uncomfortable. Like someone might see, might _know_ \- 

I shrugged. “No,” I said.

Marcone took another drink of his coffee, studying me like I was a rare specimen and he was a collector.

“You've still got-” Kincaid brushed her fingers over the other corner of my mouth, and again I opened without thinking about it, closing my eyes and sucking the syrup off them.

When I opened my eyes, Marcone's gaze seemed darker. Kincaid was grinning. She - he - drew the finger down my chin and then further down over my neck and Adam's apple, to the center of my chest. Then she leaned forward and kissed me.

Her mouth was sweet with syrup and cinnamon. The kiss was leisurely, slower than any of the kisses we'd shared the day before. I found myself opening my own mouth to her, chasing the flavors in hers. When she finally pulled back, she looked smug.

“I don't think-” I began.

She put a finger to my lips. “Don't think,” she said.

Then she picked up the container of maple syrup.

“This is the good stuff, right, Marcone?” she said lightly. “Probably cost twenty or thirty bucks for this little bottle. Imported straight from Canada.”

I frowned, that was a lot of money to spend on syrup, and I felt bad about dumping it indiscriminately on my French toast and bacon. Then I felt bad for feeling bad; it wasn't like I cared that I was wasting the scumbag criminal's money.

Kincaid was unscrewing the top of the bottle. My eyes followed her movements like a mouse watching a cat. She leaned back and gave a little shrug of her shoulders that had her robe falling open, exposing one of her breasts. Lifting the bottle, she let a few drops of syrup drip onto her chest, sliding slowly down from her collarbone toward her breast.

I bit my lip, unable to look away from that slow, sweet trail, my breath speeding up. She put the syrup bottle down with a soft clink.

“Well?” she said. “You don't want to waste it, do you?” She tugged my head down and I went willingly, lapping the sweetness off her skin.

When her nipple was clean she poured syrup down over the other one, and I didn't even hesitate, laving her skin and sucking at her, trying to absorb every bit of the sweetness, clean every sticky trace.

I wasn't quite finished when she pulled my hair to bring my head up again, but then she kissed me, her lips sticky-sweet, and I stopped caring. “Think you can carry me to the bed?” she murmured against my lips. I wasn't sure – I was strong, but Kincaid was muscular, even for a woman. Still, I was game to try. I slid my hands down her skin, cupped her ass and levered her against me. She wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, and then it was...not easy, but not too hard to carry her across the room. I felt the syrup bottle tap against the back of my neck, dangling from her hand as I carried her.

She laughed, something pleased and triumphant in the tone, and I tumbled her onto the newly-made bed. A moment later there was movement on the other side of her, and I looked up to see Marcone sliding down on her opposite side. I blinked for a moment, tensing. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

Then Kincaid was pouring more syrup, this time in between her breasts, and I couldn't help myself. I leaned down and licked.

Things got a little fuzzy after that. I don't know how long I spent chasing drops of syrup across her skin, nibbling and sucking.

I distinctly remember the moment that she reached over and dribbled some just above Marcone's collarbone. 

I froze, staring at the thick, amber liquid. I wasn't- I didn't- I looked up and caught his eye. His face was blank, but as I watched, there was a moment of tension, a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, a tightness at the corners of his mouth. Was this making him uncomfortable, too?

The thought probably should have stopped me, but instead I smirked at him and lowered my head. I heard and felt him suck in a breath, and a little thrill of victory washed over me. It was just another game of chicken, and I waited for him to break and say something or push me away.

He didn't, though. Marcone stayed perfectly still, chest rising and falling quickly, his hands fisted in the sheets on either side of him, but he didn't speak and he didn't stop me. And after awhile I got lost in following the sticky trails Kincaid was still dripping down his skin.

She poured a drop on each of his nipples, and more down his abs, on either side of his belly button, right up to the edge of his pelvis. When she got to his cock, though, I hesitated. He was hard, flushed and red. I hadn't expected that. I glanced up at his face again.

He was staring at me, muscles rigid. I saw his throat bob as he swallowed.

I gave him my best shit-eating grin. His eyes widened even further, his pupils dilating, his lips parting, just a little. Enjoying his panic, I leaned down and licked.

I started from the bottom, like I was licking the world's most obscene ice cream cone. I could smell sweat and musk, and when I got to the top...

Huh, there was another flavor, salt and bitter mixed with the sweet. I chased it, licking at the slit. There was a sound from Marcone, and I took another peek at him. He was flushed, sweating, holding himself tightly under control.

Suddenly I felt...powerful. I leaned down and _sucked_. 

Marcone made a strangled sound and shuddered. A smug satisfaction arose in me. I wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, and started moving my head up and down, faster and faster, my lips meeting my hand and then pulling back until they were kissing the tip. I kept going, rewarded by little drops of salt every so often, until Marcone gasped, “ _Harry_.” I pulled back so that he was sitting on my tongue, sucked and squeezed him again, and he came in my mouth. 

The texture wasn't pleasant, but the bitter-salt flavor was a nice contrast to the maple sweetness still lingering on my tongue. I swallowed it down and kept licking him clean until Marcone honest-to-god whimpered.

I let him go and sat up. I was – I was hard. I hadn't even realized it-

Kincaid grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down onto my back. “My turn,” she said, and slid down onto me. I groaned.

She rode me hard, her breasts bouncing, throwing back her head and laughing. I lay back, sweating and gasping and straining against her. At one point, I turned my head to see Marcone, lying next to me, watching my face.

I stared back. A small smile touched his lips. As I watched, he tilted the bottle, dripping the last drops of the syrup onto my lips, then leaned over and kissed me.

The sweetness exploded across my tongue. I moaned into his mouth, kissing him back, not caring that Kincaid wasn't part of the kiss this time, not caring what this was.

Something made a loud, electronic sound, and Kincaid swore. “Sorry Dresden,” she said, pulling off me. Marcone sat up as well.

I made a strangled sound. “What, no, I-”

“It's Ivy, I've got to take it.”

“Fuck, Jared, you fucking-” I shut up, because Kincaid was answering his phone and winking at me, stepping away from us. “God dammit,” I whispered. Marcone kissed me again, and this time I was the one that whimpered. Then he started nipping his way down my body. I had an idea what his goal was, but I didn't even try to stop him. I needed to come, and I didn't care much how.

Then Marcone put his mouth on me, and time slowed down.

He didn't even hesitate, didn't lick or tease me. Just, right down to the root, swallowing me down like a pro. Or maybe like a fucking boa constrictor. I gasped, “Holy shit, Marcone!” He hummed, and I could feel it all the way down to my toes. My hips jerked, but it didn't even seem to bother Marcone; he just swallowed around me and moved with me.

It was good, so fucking good, but I still couldn't- couldn't quite-

“Please,” I choked, “please, Marcone, I need to come, please-”

A tremor shook through his body. He slipped one hand down, stroking and cupping my balls for a brief moment, then sliding beneath, and up, and pressing a spot just behind them and-

I cried out.

It hit like a wave, crashing over me and taking me under. It felt like forever that I lay there, trembling. But it couldn't have been that long, because when I blinked my eyes open again, Marcone was sitting up between my legs, watching me avidly. I zeroed in on a line of come on his chin, and without thought I reached out and hauled him to me, licking the taste of myself out of his mouth.

Even when every trace of my flavor was gone, I kept kissing him.

Gradually it shifted from something frantic to something slower, soothing. His hand was in my hair, stroking through it over and over again. His kisses were warm and easy. He gentled me until I was limp, relaxed, my eyelids drooping.

When he shifted as though to get up, I slid my hand off my pillow and covered his wrist.

“I need to get _some_ work done today,” he said, sounding amused.

“'s a long night,” I mumbled.

“It was.”

“How come you're not tired?” I said, my words blurry.

“Triple espresso. I'll crash later,” he said dryly. After a moment he added, “You can sleep as long as you like. You're safe here.”

I cracked one eye open and looked at him.

“As my guest,” he clarified.

I was too tired to think through all the implications of that. “Okay,” I muttered, and let my eye slip closed again. I left my hand where it was. He could have slipped away easily, but instead he settled back onto the bed and began running his hand through my hair and down my back again until I was floating, nearly asleep. “'s nice. I miss it,” I murmured.

“What, sex?” he asked, a laugh in his voice.

“Bein',” I yawned, “bein' touched. Feels good.”

His hand paused mid-stroke, then resumed its movement. He didn't say anything else, but he didn’t leave, either. My thoughts bubbled up slowly, as though all that syrup had gone into my brain and was gumming up the works. Eventually, a thought floated lazily to the surface.

Kincaid was gone. It was just me and Marcone now. Or should that be ‘Marcone and I…’? Either way, it was just the two of us. I felt like that should bother me for some reason, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.

I fell asleep still wondering.


End file.
